


then i saw your face

by countthestars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countthestars/pseuds/countthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Louis snatches the picture off the fridge and retreats to the safe haven of his bedroom, stuffing it out of sight in a desk drawer where Niall can’t get his grubby hands on it.</i><br/> <br/><i>And like. So what if he refuses to throw it out? He needs evidence when he confronts Liam next week, doesn’t he? And so what if he’s spent maybe a little more time than necessary studying the pencil lines, tracing his fingers over the lead until it smears. It’s just. He never thought his face was that interesting. Never believed it could, like, inspire someone to recreate it.<i></i></i></p><p>or, the one in which Zayn is an art major and Louis has a hard time letting his guard down.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	then i saw your face

**Author's Note:**

> this actually a lot more ridiculous than the summary implies.
> 
> title from 'i'm a believer' by the monkees.

“Louis.”

“Hush,” Louis replies. “Sleeping now.”

“ _Louis_.” This time Niall’s voice sounds more insistent. It’s followed up by a harsh kick to his shin.

He jerks his head up from where it was pillowed on his arms. “Ow! What the fuck, Horan?”

Niall shoots him an easy grin. “Class is over. Or did ya want me ‘t let you sleep through the next lecture, too?”

“Oh, shut it.” Louis grumbles. He stretches in his seat, yawning so widely his jaw cracks. “It’s not my fault this class is boring as hell. It would put anyone to sleep. Does anyone actually care about Ancient Celts and Where to Find Them?”

Shrugging, Niall slings his backpack over his shoulder and heads towards the door. “We needed the humanities credit. It was this or the 8am lecture on Mesopotamian civilizations.”

“Right. Because this information is going to be so helpful when I’m teaching drama.” Louis adopts a theatrical pose, “ _Romeo, o romeo, where art thou Hallstatt Celts?_ ”

Niall gives him a polite golf clap. “Well done, mate. We’re nearly halfway through the semester and you’ve picked up an entire vocab word. You’re gonna smash this course.”

Louis scoffs. “I still have a week to drop it.” His grade on last week’s exam will be the determining factor. Louis has a feeling his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are about to open up.

They make their way towards the door of the lecture hall, most of the class having cleared out while Louis was napping. Honestly, Louis is lucky that Niall was stuck taking this bullshit class with him. He probably would have slept through the next lecture, which would seriously cut into his Thursday night FIFA time.

Hey, a boy’s got to have ambition.

They’re ready to exit the room when Louis, caught up in his banter with Niall, smacks straight into the boy in front of him.

Louis takes a step back, has to tilt his head back to take in the lightly stubbled jaw paired with big brown doe eyes. It’s an attractive combination. The boy stares at Louis a bit, wide eyed, before stuttering out an apology and dropping to his knees. This is an interesting turn of events, Louis thinks, until he realizes the boy has dropped his backpack and his papers have gone everywhere.

“I’m so sorry, god, I’m such a klutz,” the boy is still mumbling, and shit, Louis is the one who bumped into him. He bends down to help the poor kid gather his stuff up with a “no worries, mate, it was my fault anyway.”

He tries to smile reassuringly at him, but the boy is staring determinately at the ground. He shoves the last of the papers back into his backpack forcefully, mutters one last “sorry” and practically runs from the room.

“Huh,” Louis muses, sitting back on his heels. He glances up at Niall, who watched the whole exchange without lifting a finger to help.

Worthless Irishman.

“That was weird, right?” Louis asks. “It wasn’t just me.”

“No,” Niall agrees. “That was definitely weird. Liam’s quiet, sure, but he’s not usually like that.”

“You know him?” Louis asks and, wait, stupid question. Niall knows everyone. Louis’ honestly not sure how he does it, but they can’t walk through the quad together without Niall stopping to chat with no less than twenty people.

He’s about to get back up when he sees one last stray piece of paper that’s stuck under a chair. He reaches out to grab it – if it’s important, he can return it to Liam next week. Maybe he’ll be so grateful he’ll drop to his knees again, and then-

Louis’ spiraling thoughts are shut down when he glances at the sheet. It’s thicker than notebook paper, and unlined. The jagged edge makes it look like it’s been ripped from a sketchbook, maybe. That, and the artfully drawn image of a face.

“Niall.” Louis says in a low voice. “Look at this. That face look familiar to you?”

Niall pauses in the doorway and turns back towards Louis. He examines the paper with barely concealed disinterest. “Is that from one of those apps that makes it look like someone sketched you?” he asks. “Only, it’s a weird picture you chose. Why’ve you got your eyes closed?”

Louis lets out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I didn’t use one of those apps, Niall. This is one of the papers your friend – what did you say his name was? Liam? – this is something Liam dropped.”

“Hmm.” Niall says. “I didn’t know Liam could draw.”

And really, that’s what Niall chooses to focus on? No doubt the drawing is good. The likeness is uncanny, actually. The problem here is that it’s of _Louis’. Fucking. Face._

*

Louis obsesses over the drawing all weekend. He presses Niall for more information on Liam, Secret Drawer and Possible Mass Murderer, but all he gets is “dunno, think he sings maybe. Also runs track? Fuck, Louis, just ask him about it in class next week if you’re so hung up on it.”

Niall’s a tough cookie to crack. Or maybe it’s Louis’ interrogation skills that need work. He googles “waterboarding,” prints out the wikipedia article, and slips it under Niall’s door.

The next morning, he wakes up to a piece of paper under his own door. It’s a picture of Harry with little hearts drawn all around it, the words “LT + HS = 4EVA” and “Mr. Louis Styles” scrawled underneath. Louis knew his drunken confession of his ill-advised and short-lived crush on Harry would come back to bite him in the ass.

He pounds on the thin wall between their bedrooms. “You promised you’d never speak of that-which-will-not-be-named ever again!” he yells.

There’s an answering thud that sounds like maybe Niall threw a shoe at the wall. “Shut up,” comes Niall’s muffled voice, “or I’ll call Harry right now and tell him about your pregnancy dream.”

Louis is a big man; he can admit defeat when he’s been bested. “You win this round, Niall,” he whispers as Niall’s snores resume next door. He needs to quit drinking. Loose lips really do sink ships.

He heads to the kitchen, thinking fondly of the leftover Chinese takeout that’s still in the fridge and already plotting revenge on his sleeping roommate, when he skids to an abrupt stop. Someone’s hung the picture of Louis on the fridge, along with the Titanic drawing of Kate Winslet’s boobs. Their alphabet magnets spell out “DR4W ME LYKE 1 OF UR FR3NCH GURLS.”

Niall really is a bastard.

Louis snatches the picture off the fridge and retreats to the safe haven of his bedroom, stuffing it out of sight in a desk drawer where Niall can’t get his grubby hands on it.

And like. So what if he refuses to throw it out? He needs evidence when he confronts Liam next week, doesn’t he? And so what if he’s spent maybe a little more time than necessary studying the pencil lines, tracing his fingers over the lead until it smears. It’s just. He never thought his face was that interesting. Never believed it could, like, inspire someone to recreate it.

It’s kind of nice, actually. Flattering, even.

Of course, then he remembers that he didn’t exactly give anyone the go ahead to draw him like that, eyes closed and face relaxed in sleep. It makes him feel vulnerable and it’s like his skin has an itch he can’t scratch. He needs to do something, to make that feeling go away.

With a stroke of inspiration, he races out of his bedroom and into Niall’s. He jumps on his best friend’s sleeping form, bellowing, “I’ll never let go Jack! I’ll never let go!”

Niall groans and pulls the blanket over his head. Louis relishes in his victory.

*

Never in his uni career has Louis been so anxious to get to class, let alone Welcome to the Celts. He gets there twenty minutes early, which is a new record and smashes the old one by a solid nineteen minutes. It’s also the first time he’s beaten Niall to class, and he throws his backpack on the seat next to him to save him a space in the back.

Louis waits impatiently while the room slowly fills up, but so far there’s no sign of Liam. He absently chews the end of a pen while he sits, realizes how disgusting the habit is, and forgets a minute later and sticks it back in his mouth. He watches the minutes tick slowly away and god, not even class moves at this agonizing pace. Its three minutes ‘til when Niall slips into the room and plops into the seat Louis saved him.

“Thought you’d be busy questioning Liam by now,” he says, cheerful as always.

“I would be if he had showed up!” Louis hisses back. “He’s probably too ashamed to show his face. He knows that I know that he has a shrine dedicated to my face in his closet, full of creepy mementos, only now he’s lost the crown jewel and his dirty little secret it out.”

There’s a cough behind him and Louis and Niall both jump, whipping their heads around.

Liam’s standing there, awkwardly rubbing his hand over the back of neck. “Er,” he says and blushes an extravagant shade of red. “I don’t have a shrine dedicated to you in my closet,” he blurts out.

Pointing an accusing finger at him, Louis is about to loudly declare Liam a liar and demand The Truth and Justice for All when their professor ambles to the podium and clears her throat. “Today, class, we’ll be discussing some of the hallmarks of the La Tene culture, not to be confused with the more geometric themes of its predecessor, the Hallstatt period.”

Liam sort of shrugs apologetically and quietly takes a seat near the back. Louis can see him out of the corner of his eye, so close and yet completely out of reach, and it’s driving him absolutely wild.

He jiggles his leg more and more aggressively as their professor drones on about the archaeological significance of Shit Louis Does Not Care About until finally Niall clamps his hand down on Louis’ leg in a vice-like grip. Louis bares his teeth at him in what he thinks is an menacing yet classy move and Niall retaliates by drawing stick figures of Louis sleeping all over his notebook. At least, Louis assumes the stick figures are supposed to be him. He supposes they could also be sleeping convicts; it’s hard to tell what the stripes signify. The little z’s are a dead giveaway, though.

After what Louis can only surmise is an eternity, the class finally, mercifully comes to an end. He scrambles out of his seat and locks eyes with Liam. Through the power of his gaze, he attempts to tell Liam that if he, under any circumstances, leaves this lecture hall without giving Louis an explanation, Louis will murder him in a number of creative and innovative ways.

Either Louis’ gaze wasn’t heated enough or Liam is particularly dense, because he breaks eye contact and joins the pack of students heading out the door. Louis grabs Niall’s arm and roughly tugs him down the aisle and out the door after Liam. Louis has waited too long for answers and he’s not going to take this anymore.

Luckily for Niall’s arm, Liam is actually waiting just outside the door, out of the way of the flow of exiting students. Perhaps Louis’ death threat via eyes did translate, after all. Niall tugs his arm out of Louis’ grip and rubs at his bicep pathetically. “The fuck, Lou,” he whines. “That hurt.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Louis tells Niall. He turns to Liam with a stern glare. “And you. You owe me an explanation.”

Liam holds up his hands, palms towards Louis in a placating gesture, as if Louis can be placated.

Louis shoves the evidence at him, pushing the drawing into his face. “What the fuck,” he asks in his most authoritative tone, “is this?”

“Um,” Liam says. “I can explain?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Who said Louis wouldn’t make a great teacher?

Liam flushes, but replies in a steady voice. “Telling. I, uh, you see…”

“C’mon, mate, spit it out.”

Louis turns with surprise. He sort of expected that Niall would be the muscle of this operation, kind of a silent but menacing presence behind Louis. He pointedly overlooks the fact that Niall is the human equivalent of a rabbit.

Niall shrugs. “I want to go to lunch and this whole thing is stupid. I’m sure Liam’s got a great explanation for why he was carrying around a creepy drawing of you.”

“Yes!” Liam exclaims. “I totally, completely, 100% do.”

Louis waits a respectful seven seconds before prompting, “And that explanation is…?”

“My roommate is an art major!” Liam says, as if that explains anything at all.

Even Niall seems a bit confused by that. “But why did you have a drawing of Louis, then?”

“Oh, well, um,” Liam fumbles over his words. “Zayn drew it? And I thought, ‘hey, that guy looks familiar’ so I took it to class just to check only then I dropped it and I as soon as I realized I went back to look for it only it was gone and I knew I had it in class so I figured you must have picked it up and I’m so sorry I never meant for you to see it,” he finishes in a rush.

“Great!” Niall interjects. “All a big misunderstanding. Mystery solved. Let’s go to lunch.”

“Hold up. That’s, like, half an explanation. I’m still waiting to hear _why a complete stranger drew a fucking picture of me sleeping_.”

Liam shifts uncomfortably. “Look,” he says finally. “That’s a really reasonable question but the thing is it’s not really my place to answer it. You need to talk to Zayn. Let him tell you.”

“I would love to,” Louis bites off, “only I don’t actually know Zayn, do I?” He turns to Niall. “Do we know Zayn?”

Niall cocks his head, a telltale sign he’s thinking critically. “No, actually, don’t think we do.” His eyes widen suddenly and it’s like Louis can see the light bulb turning on over his head. “Oh! Was he the one at Cher’s party the other weekend, Liam? Dark hair, ridiculous quiff?”

“I wouldn’t say his quiff is ridiculous,” Liam says loyally. “But yeah, we were both at Cher’s. I’m actually surprised you don’t remember him, Louis,” he continues. “Zayn made it sound like, I dunno, you guys had a _thing_.”

Louis can literally hear the italics in Liam’s tone. He’d offer a scathing retort, but he’s busy racking his brain. Dark-haired boy? Quiff? Cher’s party? The thing is, Niall and Louis go to a lot of parties. Most of them are full of dark-haired boys, and Louis, well, he isn’t exactly picky, is he? He’ll dance with anyone who looks cute once he’s got a few drinks in him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” he says finally.

“I don’t really know how else to describe him. He’s quiet?”

That doesn’t sound like someone Louis would have a moment with at a party.

“And he’s, uh, got some stubble. Not quite a full-beard, but it could be, if he wanted.”

Getting warmer. Louis has always been a sucker for facial hair. There’s something weirdly erotic about beard burn.

“He’s also got a lot of tattoos,” Liam adds thoughtfully, and really? That’s the detail he chooses to share last?

Louis has a sudden, vague memory of a tattooed forearm and the most amazing eyelashes.

“Half sleeve?” he asks. “With a giant microphone?”

“Yeah!” Liam smiles brightly. “You remembered!”

That’s a bit optimistic, really. Louis has some flashes of memory. Zayn’s tattooed arm, flailing about as he talks excitedly about something or other, gesturing with his hands. Dark hair, dark eyes, his face otherwise a blur. Louis resting his head on a bony thigh, pretending it was comfortable because it was warm and gentle hands were carding carefully through his hair as he fell asleep and oh.

“I fell asleep in his lap! And then he drew me, the pervert!”

Liam’s smile drops straight off his face. It’d be funny if he didn’t look like he was about to burst into tears. “Zayn’s not a pervert! Christ.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis replies, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “Then what is he doing drawing completely innocent sleeping people without their knowledge? Sounds like a pervert to me.”

Niall snorts. “Don’t be so overdramatic, Lou. You were probably passed out drunk. Hardly innocent, eh?”

Louis would be offended if Niall wasn’t right. Actually, he’s still offended. Niall is his friend and is supposed to defend his honor.

“Zayn’s not a pervert! He’s an _art major,_ ” Liam almost yells, and the few students still lingering in the hall turn to look at his outburst.

“I’ll decide that for myself,” Louis replies. “I want to meet him. Again,” he amends as Niall shoots him a pointed glance.

“I don’t know…” Liam starts and is saved from coming up with whatever dumb excuse he was planning when Niall grabs both Louis and Liam.

“This has been a great talk, lads. We’ve made some excellent progress. And we’re going to continue it-" he glares at Louis’ until his half-formed protest falls silent “- in the cafeteria over lunch.”

Oh. Brilliant. Louis knew there was a reason he kept Niall around.

*

Harry, of course, joins them for lunch. Louis would worry that Niall’s planning to follow through on his earlier threat, but he’s noticed that Harry’s got a habit of showing up wherever Niall is. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense or something.

Then again, Niall is usually around food. It isn’t actually all that hard to track him down.

At any rate, Harry’s easy smile seems to have lulled Liam into a false sense of relaxation. The line of his shoulders doesn’t look nearly as tense and Louis is hopeful that with his defenses lowered, he’ll answer all of Louis’ questions about the mysterious Zayn, Art Student and Part-Time Pervert.

“So,” he starts conversationally after they’ve all gotten their food and Liam has taken a particularly large bite out of his burger. “Does Zayn wank to pictures of me?”

Liam chokes on his food and Harry has to pound quite forcefully on his back until he’s able to breathe again. “What?” he gasps out, still coughing a bit.

“I’m just trying to gauge how much of a pervert he actually is, on a scale from, like, one to ten.”

“And where does wanking off to pictures of you rank?” Niall asks with amusement.

Louis mulls it over as he takes a bite of his own burger. “I’d rank it pretty high, only I own a mirror. It’s honestly a modern day miracle everyone’s not wanking off to pictures of me.”

Niall groans and Harry reassuringly rubs Liam’s back. Harry’s always been very tactile. “He’s totally joking, Liam. Hardly anyone at this table has wanked off to Lou.”

“Wait,” Louis says. “How many people at this table _have_ wanked off to me?”

He’s met with two guilty stares and a slightly horrified Liam.

“Oh my god,” Louis gloats. “The majority of this table has wanked off to me!”

“Since when is half the majority?” Niall points out. “Unless you’ve wanked thinking about yourself, mate.”

“Whatever, forget I mentioned it,” Harry interrupts before Louis can respond. “We’re off topic, anyway. I believe Liam was about to spill all about Zayn and his creepy drawings.”

Liam sighs. “For the last time, he’s not creepy, or a pervert. He’s an art major,” (“You’ve mentioned that, Liam, several times now.” “Shut up Lou and let him finish.”) “so he draws a lot. Sketches, I guess. He’s been taking a lot of figure drawing classes this semester but sometimes he, like, has trouble finding inspiration? So he’ll take pictures of people that are interesting, or unique, or beautiful, just for a reference to draw later. Helps him, I dunno, get in the zone or something.”

Louis says, “I don’t know, still sounds creepy—" at the same time Niall hoots, “by interesting you mean ugly, right? That’s why he drew Louis, ahahahah” which quickly evolves into a shoving match.

Liam looks mildly concerned, but Harry just takes the opportunity to steal some chips from the other boys’ plates. Eventually, after Niall gets him in a headlock and threatens to cut off his air supply, Louis croaks out “uncle.” Niall takes a standard victory lap around the cafeteria, high-fiving quite a few cheering patrons, and seriously, how is it possible he knows that many people, before settling back in his seat. Liam’s eyes have grown to the size of saucers, but he elects to just duck his head and keep on eating. Good man. He’s learning quickly.

“Anyway,” Louis says, resuming his own seat with a fabricated air of dignity. “I’m still going to need to talk to Zayn to determine his actual pervert status.”

“I wish you’d quit using that word,” Harry drawls slowly. “It’s not really politically correct, Lou.”

“What would you rather me say, Harry?” Louis asks exasperatedly.

“Ethically challenged?”

Niall shakes his head. “Ethically challenged,” he mutters. “Honestly.”

“Hey,” Harry protests.

“Whatever!” Louis says. “Ethically challenged, then. Liam, Niall and I are having a party this Thursday-“

“Oh, are we now?” Niall asks.

“Yes, we are,” Liam says firmly. “And Liam here is going to invite his ethically challenged friend Zayn.”

“Zayn’s not really big on parties,” Liam starts, but Louis cuts him off. “And I’m not really big on people drawing my face! I want to talk to him, Liam. _Please_.” Louis isn’t above begging.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll invite him to the party. Only, look, you can’t tell him you know about the picture, Louis,” and on no, Liam’s pulling these ridiculous puppy dog eyes, that's a foul, completely unfair. “Zayn kind of doesn’t know I took it, and his art is really, like, private, so—"

“My sleeping face is private!”

“You were passed out! Fair game.”

“—he’d be really embarrassed, please Louis, I’m begging you, don’t tell him.”

“You keep your word, Liam, and I’ll keep mine,” Louis promises.

*

The party has been going strong for a few hours and Louis is on the drunk side of buzzed. He’s beginning to think that Liam lied to him and that Zayn isn’t going to show, when he spots Harry talking to Liam and a dark-haired boy near the front door. _Zayn_.

Louis passes his drink off to whoever’s standing next to him and lurches through the crowded living room. He barrels into Harry’s shoulder before regaining his balance and fixes his gaze on Zayn’s remarkably pretty face.

“You,” Louis declares, “are a pervert.”

“Lou! I told you not to use that word!” Harry cries. Liam groans and buries his face in his hands.

“Sorry?” Zayn asks, confusion clear on his face, and right, maybe Louis should introduce himself.

“D’you not remember me? I’m the boy who passed out on your lap at Cher’s party.”

“No, I remember you,” Zayn says slowly. “Not sure how you passing out on me makes me the pervert, though.” He shoots Liam a suspicious look. Liam looks like he’s wishing the ground would swallow him up.

“Ethically challenged,” Harry adds helpfully. “You’re ethically challenged.”

“You drew me sleeping!” Louis accuses. “Your ethics are perverted.”

“How did you…?” Zayn glances at Liam again and sighs in resignation at the guilty expression on his face. “ _Fuck_. I need a smoke. Can we take this conversation outside?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just pushes through the tangle of bodies still crowding Louis’ living room and heads towards the door that leads to a tiny deck. Louis follows him with considerable less grace and steps out after him. He closes the door with a quiet click and the sounds of music and drunken laughter are suddenly muted.

Zayn’s got his back to Louis, facing out over the street, and Louis can see a flicker of flame as he lights his cigarette. Louis rubs at his bare arms, absently notices he’s got goosebumps, but the alcohol he’s already consumed takes the edge off the chill.

“So,” he says when Zayn continues to smoke, leaning over the railing and resolutely not acknowledging Louis’ presence.

“So,” Zayn replies.

“Why’d you draw me?” he asks bluntly.

Zayn turns towards him then, dark gaze pinning Louis in place. “Have you not seen your face, mate?” He reaches his fingers out like he’s going to touch, then jerks them back in an aborted movement. “I’ve been uninspired for weeks, but when I saw you at that party…” he trails off, takes another drag from his cigarette. He lets the smoke out on his next exhale and Louis watches the way it curls up into the night.

“I dunno,” he says finally. “I just had to draw you.”

“So you, what, whipped out a sketch pad in the middle of a party?”

Zayn looks a bit abashed. “Well, no. I, um, might’ve taken a pic of you with my phone?”

At the no doubt outraged expression on Louis’ face, he’s quick to add, “You were passed out and I didn’t want to wake you up to ask if it was okay! Besides, you just.” He sighs. “You looked really peaceful, you know? I’d been watching your face all night, and you’re so animated, it’s incredible, but I just, I dunno, I got the feeling seeing you relaxed like that was something… special.”

Louis crosses his arms. “Something personal, I’d say.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees softly. “I get the feeling you don’t like people seeing you with your guard down.”

“Maybe I don’t like people taking creepy pictures of me sleeping,” Louis snaps, because Zayn’s words are hitting a little too close to home and the best defense is a good offense.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have taken the picture. You were never supposed to see the sketch, though.”

“What, so no harm, no foul? It’s cool to draw me, but god forbid I find out?”

“Fuck,” Zayn swears. He brings the cigarette to his lips again, but he’s already smoked it down to the filter. He flicks it over the railing and takes another out of his pack, lighting up with shaking hands.

“This is why I don’t go to parties,” he mutters.

“Because your pervert brain can’t resist being a creep?”

“Christ! No, because – fuck, okay, yes.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, messing up his carefully styled quiff. Niall was right; it is ridiculous. “I’m not good with people, okay? I just, like, never know what to say and it’s, I dunno, easier for me to be on the outside looking in, you know? I’d rather just lose myself in my art. When I see something I like, something that inspires me, I have to draw it. I can say more with my art than I can with words.”

Louis just stands there with his mouth gaping dumbly.

“God, that sounded so stupid. See what I mean? Look, I’m sorry about the stupid drawing and the creepy picture and I’m just gonna go and you can tell everyone what a pervert I am.” He puts out his unfinished cigarette and reaches for the door to go back inside, but Louis flings his hand out and grabs his arm.

“Wait,” he says. “It’s not stupid, okay? It’s not.”

Zayn stills, hand still gripping the door handle, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “You don’t think I’m a pervert, then?” he asks, but the corner of his mouth twitches up in the hint of a smile.

“Well. Maybe a little.”

Groaning, Zayn leans his head against the doorframe, hiding his face from Louis. “This is so fucking embarrassing. God, there’s a reason I don’t show anyone my sketchbook.”

“Then how did Liam end up with the drawing?”

Zayn’s silent for a moment and Louis isn’t sure if he’s going to answer. Finally, he says, “The thing is, Liam’s a good friend. He just worries a lot, y'know? He knew I’d been, like, struggling for a while, feeling uninspired. He was so happy when he saw me drawing again.”

He turns towards Louis then, half his face still drenched in shadows. “He saw us talking at the party, saw you sleeping in my lap. He kept bugging me to talk to you again, but I told him I didn’t even know your name. He saw the sketch on accident, said he thought you looked like a boy in his class. I told him to drop it, but, you know.” Zayn shrugs.

“Instead he stole your drawing and used it to stalk me,” Louis says. “That’s sweet. I mean, in a really weird, ethically challenged sort of way.”

“You keep saying ‘ethically challenged’ like it’s a thing. Is it a thing?”

“Nevermind,” Louis says dismissively. “It’s beside the point. Let’s recap. We met at party, parted without even exchanging names—"

“Or you remembering me, like, at all,” Zayn interrupts.

“I remembered your tattoo! Anyway, look, we were reunited by your meddling roommate tracking me down using a drawing of me, like some kind of weird fairy tale.”

“How, exactly, is this a fairy tale?”

“How is it _not_ a fairy tale? This is some serious Cinderella shit. Your sketch was like the glass slipper that only matched the most beautiful boy in the entire kingdom. Niall, of course, is the evil step-sister.”

And, okay, maybe his allegory is a little off, but Zayn’s smiling at him and it’s making his eyes crinkle in the most adorable way. “The most beautiful boy in the kingdom, eh?”

“Well, I did inspire you.”

“Thought I was just an ethically challenged pervert.”

“It’s possible I judged you a bit too harshly,” Louis admits.

“Maybe we just got off on the wrong foot,” Zayn says. He holds out his hand. Louis grins at him, reaches out to grip it firmly in his own.

“I’m Zayn. Nice to meet you.”

“Louis. The pleasure’s all mine.”

They smile dopily at each other and Louis thinks maybe it’s not so bad, letting Zayn in. He gets the feeling Zayn’s already let him see parts of himself that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. If he’s being completely honest, he kind of wants to unravel the rest of Zayn’s secrets.

He takes a step closer, pressing Zayn back against the door frame. “Now what?” He murmurs.

“I could draw you,” Zayn offers. “Any pose you like.”

Louis leers. “Do you draw nude models?”

“I draw a lot of things nude.” Oh, and Louis didn’t know Zayn could be so cheeky.

“I think we should continue this conversation later. The nude bit, I mean. Right now, though, I have a better idea.” Louis drops his gaze to Zayn’s mouth before glancing back up to meet his eyes. Zayn’s watching him through his lashes, looks so fucking coy that Louis just wants to ruin him.

He settles for kissing him soundly, trapping Zayn against the door and rubbing his thumbs across his stubbled jaw. Zayn gives as good as he gets and soon Louis is panting against his mouth, feeling dizzy as he breathes in the scent of his cologne.

Zayn starts kissing his neck, sucking at the skin and Louis is going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager if he keeps that up. A thought suddenly occurs to him.

“You’re not, _ah_ , gonna get me off and take a picture of my, _fuck_ , my face when I come, are you?”

“Oh my god, Louis,” Zayn groans.

“Because I’m going to be honest with you Zayn, not sure I’m comfortable with you taking such intimate pictures of me.”

“Shut up or I won’t get you off at all.”

Louis grins. “So you’re saying orgasms are on the table, then?”

“Mmm. On the bed, maybe.”

Attractive _and_ brilliant. Louis is pleased with this turn of events and thinks that he’d take Zayn home even if he was a secret pervert.

“You want to take this into the bedroom then?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

They head back inside, pushing their way through the crowd in the living room where the party is still going strong. Louis spots Harry on the couch, straddled across someone’s lap, snogging enthusiastically. Good for Harry, he thinks, as Harry pulls back for air, revealing a disheveled and flushed looking Niall.

Oh, and isn’t _that_ interesting?

Louis would love to stop and take the piss out of Niall, but that would mean delaying possible orgasms, and like, Zayn is fucking fit. He does hold his fist out as he passes the couch and Niall bumps his back, glancing back and forth between Louis and Zayn, shooting them a less than surreptitious thumbs-up. Harry doesn’t look up from where he’s got his face tucked into Niall’s neck and Louis takes the opportunity to pinch his ass.

He thinks he hears a slow “hey” of protest as he leads Zayn towards the bedroom, but can’t be bothered to turn around. Niall’s a good lad, he can comfort Harry.

It’s only as he and Zayn stumble into Louis’ bedroom that he realizes he didn’t see Liam in throng of people in the living room. He would’ve liked to have thanked him personally for his instrumental role in helping him and Zayn reconnect, but then Zayn takes his shirt off and Louis gets distracted because it turns out Zayn’s got more tattoos that were previously hidden beneath his clothes. Louis decides he’s going to taste every inch of Zayn, determine if his tattoos have any effect on the flavor of his skin. For science, obviously.

Thanking Liam drops to the bottom of his to-do list. It’s fine. Louis can always send him a fruit basket. 


End file.
